Lukas

Date July 13, 2116? Time Unknown, but late? Location Not a clue

He needed a pillow.

Lukas shifted into yet another position on his sad excuse for a “bed.” Whatever the cuffed surgical tables in this hellhole were meant to be for, drugless sleep was definitively not one of them.

He just wanted to find a position that was even a little more comfortable, while still keeping pressure off his healing hand.

He opened his eyes...well, mostly just his right eye. His left was nearly swollen shut.

Kel had said he could treat himself, but there wasn’t any ice in the room, and topical creams and a bag filled with cold water could only do so much after a punch like that.

A punch far, far more effective than his had been.

It felt like getting hit with a hammer.

He was lucky she hadn’t shattered his orbital bone. Or worse.

With his good eye, the doctor examined the thick, glove-like device encasing his right hand from about halfway up his fingers, down past the wrist. The pulsing purple glow it emitted was almost hypnotic enough to lull him to sleep. Almost.

Fusion casts were glorious inventions, especially when paired with some powerful pain killers...but using that hand as a pillow was definitely not an option. And sleeping on the left side of his face would be a very painful plan.

But he couldn’t just lie flat either. He’d tried that at first, but he…he just couldn’t.

Even thinking of lying on his back triggered memories that nearly sent him hyperventilating.

Kel on top of him.

Pinning him down.

Choking him over and over and…

He’d been so certain he was going to die.

That there was an airlock with his name on it, the second the last oxygen burned itself out in his brain.

He...he still wasn’t sure why she stopped. Or why she’d started in the first place.

Or when she might try again.

Lukas grimaced, and sat up.

His good eye scanned the still brightly-lit infirmary for signs of danger as he he fought to regain control of his suddenly shuddering breath and sprinting heart.

He was alone.

He was saf...well, he wasn’t safe, but it wasn’t still happening.

Not the time to think about it.

Sleep.

He needed sleep.

Not living nightmares.

So why wouldn’t his mind stop racing?

Lukas shuddered in a deep breath, let it out, and closed his useful eye again.

She wasn’t even in the room. She couldn’t hurt him if she…

How the hell had she even done that?

Lukas wasn’t a small man. Sure, he wasn’t a bodybuilder, but he’d been on the swim team all through undergrad, and even a decade later, he did laps every night in the Nightingale’s pool. Easily the most relaxing part of his day, and his most healthy habit.

To be blunt, he was in damn good shape.

But when Kel’d climbed on top of him, he couldn’t even pry a finger from his throat. Not with two hands.

Lukas wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe that fist to the face had dazed him more than he thought. Or maybe she’d given him a muscle relaxant before he woke up from the sedative, but he’d carried the duffel just fine, and she didn’t seem to have much medical knowledge, so that probably wasn’t what’d happened…

So maybe she really was just that strong. Given that Lukas hadn’t taken the time to gauge her muscle mass while struggling for air, it was a possibility…but that still left him with questions. Ones he didn’t feel safe testing.

He gulped, tried to ignore the tender twinges the motion left behind, and focused in on the feel of warm-ish metal against his ankle instead.

Now that she had him chained to a bed, the details of how she’d done it didn’t really matter, did they? It was just his wounded pride, making him overthink the situation.

And he really needed to stop. His brain, and his poor hand, needed rest.

Lukas didn’t know how long he’d been there. A day? Maybe less?

Enough time to have a good cry once Kel left him alone, chained by the ankle to his new workspace.

Enough time to stop crying long enough to set and splint his broken hand.

Enough time to pass out from exhaustion while crying again, wake up in fear and confusion over where the hell he was, remember, then spend at least a few hours alternating between panic, dread, and the practical necessities of learning what all he had available to him in terms of medical supplies.

Plenty, as it turned out.

The crates he’d seen were full. There were already some supplies in the mesh shelving, that he quickly filled the rest of the way to comply with the orders he’d been left with before Kel left.

No tablets, or other devices he could use to communicate. Nothing to cut or break the shackle on his leg.

But at least he wasn’t going to run out of painkillers any time soon.

Not without a true horror show, at least.

In all that time, his captor hadn’t come back.

Part of him was relieved. The rest of him was terrified about who or what would walk through the door with her when she did.

All that worry was exhausting.

But he still didn’t have a freaking pillow.

The doctor shifted back down onto his left side, and carefully positioned his uninjured arm under his head while avoiding the metal cuffs on the sides of the bed. Kel hadn’t given him a blanket, and the restraints were as cold as they were unnerving. The less contact he had with them, the better.

At least Kel had left the mattress on. Lukas cringed at the thought of sleeping straight on the metal bit.

His captor’s ship couldn’t’ve used actual hospital beds––or even maybe just a normal bed––could it? No. Of course, Kel’s ship had to have the most terrifying operating tables Lukas had ever seen.

He really hoped the arm and leg restraints were just for intimidation. The shackle digging into his left ankle whenever he moved wrong was already bad enough.

But what if they weren’t? What if this was some kind of organ harvesting operation? He knew that stuff happened: even with universalized health care and an entire fleet devoted to nothing but providing medical assistance free of charge to anyone who asked...there were still people whose “work” made asking result in questions they didn’t want to answer.

And of course, there were always people who thought the First Responders’ Corps was a Coalition ploy to implant tracking devices in them during surgery, or some other garbage like that. And they believed it so deeply, they’d rather risk dealing with kidnappers and butchers pretending to be surgeons than to come to the Corps for help.

It was disgusting.

It was heartbreaking.

It...was.

No matter how many times the Coalition tried to root out those responsible, it still happened.

And now Lukas found himself trapped in a mockery of an infirmary, waiting to learn if Kel’s plans for him included clamping some poor person down to an operating table, and handing him a knife, and...

The doctor felt bile creep up his throat; he forced himself to deepen the quick, shallow breaths he didn’t know when he’d started making; slowed them down until his heart stopped pounding in his ears.

If that’s what this was, he wouldn’t help her. He’d die first.

He was probably going to die anyway. Might as well keep his soul. Even if it meant he’d probably end up strapped to the table, alongside whatever other poor people she planned to––

The door hissed.

Lukas tensed.

“Doctor.”

…Crap.

She sounded upset. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling it was about to be his problem.

“All the supplies are put away,” Lukas said as he carefully sat up. “I can take you on a tour, if you’d...”

The doctor trailed off as he caught sight of her.

No more coat; no armor either.

And removing it in favor of a black t-shirt had clearly been a bad choice, given the red-stained cloth his captor held firmly against her large left deltoid. Protruding from its center was what looked a lot like…

Yep. That was definitely the handle of a knife.

“Shit,” Lukas was already on his feet and moving towards her before he realized how dangerous a move that was.

Fortunately, her expression stopped him in his tracks, well out of arms’ reach.

Up close, for what he realized was the first time in practical lighting where his adrenaline was under control, the doctor couldn’t help but notice the startling contrast of his captor’s eyes.

The right seemed to be a mossy green, while the left was an almost unearthly sky blue.

A pretty rare bit of genetics there. Or an accident. Or a bold use of cosmetic surgery. Definitely would do jack all to hide her identity, if that was what she was going for.

Not the time to stare though.

Refocusing, he gestured to the wound.

“How do you want me to do this?”

With a glare, Kel crossed to the operating table closest to the supply shelves, and sat on its edge.

“Quickly.”

After a pit stop at the sterile sink at the back of the room, Lukas retrieved a triage scanner from the shelves, and hurried over to his patient. It was hard to ignore the skittering of metal links behind him with every other step, but he managed not to trip over the chain as he worked.

Hopefully, it was something he wouldn’t have to get used to. Hopefully somebody’d find him long before that.

“Can you move your hand away a sec?” Lukas asked politely. “It’ll confuse the instrument. Promise, I’ll be quick.”

She glared, but complied. Exposed, it became clear that the blade was some kind of pocket knife: thin and short, with about a centimeter of the blade sticking out.

A simple puncture. Seemed to have gone straight in, and deep, and not moved a millimeter since.

With the pressure from Kel’s hand gone, the wound seeped, but only a trickle.

Good sign.

And thankfully, the triage scanner confirmed what Lukas desperately hoped would be the case.

“As puncture wounds go, you’re lucky,” the doctor gestured for her to reapply pressure. “Not a lot of major vessels in the deltoid. And the cut’s clean, in both senses. I should be able to mend it in one go––”

“Then do it.”

“Getting there,” Lukas confirmed. “Real quick: do you have any allergies?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

Why did she think?

“I need to make sure I don’t send you into anaphylaxis,” Lukas explained. “Are you allergic to any pain killers? Antibiotics? Antivirals––”

“No,” Kel growled. “Don’t use any of that. Just fix it.”

Lukas stared. “I…I can’t just…Could you please reconsider? Without numbing, rapid soft tissue mending feels like––”

“Come near me with any drug—or even something you claim is water-and I will break the hand holding it.”

…Well then.

He winced. “Fine. Keep the pressure on. I’ll be right back.”

The doctor glanced at the pre-stocked trauma kit he’d set up for potential future first aid for himself...and made for the shelf-stocked supplies instead. That kit had everything he needed ready to go, but he’d also packed it with antibiotics and painkillers. He wasn’t about to take the whole thing apart just to avoid testing Kel’s threat.

A ridiculous threat. To go along with an asinine request.

But hey? Patient consent. More than she’d given him thus far, but she wasn’t a doctor. He had standards.

And it wasn’t like he’d never worked without painkillers before. After all, one of the Oxoinzan sects…

…Well, that might be better than nothing.

Deliberately, Lukas unzipped the mesh encasing the shelves containing foldable surgical tray tables, unfolded one, then went to work collecting the instruments he needed.

A tissue stitcher would at least sterilize the wound, so they had that going for them. The doctor hated relying solely on radiation for the job, especially on a penetrative wound, but breaking more bones seemed like it would put him on a path out an airlock.

…If she died from an infection, was anybody going to come looking for her? Would anyone find him before he starved to death, or would he be trapped, alone and…

Lukas suppressed a shudder.

Not the time for those thoughts.

Just patch her up, and hope.

Along with the tissue stitcher, the doctor collected some swabs, bandages, forceps, a mask, gloves, and a stout, rubber-encased metal pipe. He set them all on the wheeled tray, making sure Kel could see every item as he went. Clearly, his patient had trust issues, and this wasn’t the time to ruffle them.

Lukas wrapped the mask around his face; looped the ties behind his ears; then made a quick detour to run everything he’d collected under the sterilizing sink at the back of the room.

No infections. Not if he could help it.

As he headed back to his patient, Kel eyed the tray suspiciously. “What’s the pipe for?”

“It’s an Oxionzan strength tester,” He sighed. “I was hoping you’d be willing to hold it while I work.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“A distraction,” Lukas explained. “A lot of Oxionzans from the Northern continent refuse pain meds for pretty much anything. Instead, they squeeze this thing, and try to leave a mark in it to prove their willpower and continued...well...strength. If you won’t let me numb you up, this will at least give you something to focus on besides the pain––“

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Fine. Just get on with it.”

He nodded, set the strength tester next to her, and tried to finish his prep.

The gloves took awhile. He’d had to go a few sizes large on his right hand to fit over his splint, and the hand was really stiff, which made wrestling the glove onto his left hand take longer than he’d like.

“Faster.” Definitely more of a threat to the order than was necessary.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m trying. My hand’s just a bit clumsy with the fusion splint.”

“Then take it off.”

Lukas wanted to laugh, but wasn’t confident enough that she was joking to risk it.

Instead, he shrugged. “Can’t. It’s holding my bones in place.”

Kel glared. “I thought I told you to fix that.”

The doctor’s eyebrow shot up.

Okay.

Not joking.

In that case, this seemed like a talk they should have sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, you did,” Lukas agreed. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Medicine isn’t magic. I broke two knuckles and sprained my wrist. That doesn’t disappear overnight. Under natural conditions, it could be at least six weeks before the bones are healed enough to take a cast off. Fusion splints whittle that down to two or three. And that only works if it stays put.”

She scoffed. “Weeks?”

“Weeks,” he repeated firmly. “And that’s just stabilizing the bones enough to use pain-free. Complete remodeling can take years. In the short term, with the splint on and some nice painkillers, I can use my hand. Just not well.”

The look Kel gave him was somewhere between disbelief, surprise, and disgust.

After a moment she huffed, and shook her head. “I knew you were frail, but I suppose I never realized the true extent.”

Lukas blinked. “It’s not about being frail, it’s just science––”

“Are you truly arguing with your patient?”

The doctor winced; took a breath. “Right. Sorry. Let’s just…”

Gloved, and as sterile as he could manage in a one-man operation, Lukas asked for his patient to drop the cloth again. She did, then wrapped her now-free hand around the strength tester with an odd huff of amusement.

The doctor gingerly wrapped his left hand around the hilt of the blade, half-expecting a threat about what would happen if he tried to use it on her. But she just gripped the strength tester tighter, and glared.

…Actually, that was probably threat enough.

“This is going to hurt,” Lukas warned her again. “Without antibiotics, the tissue stitcher has to do an extra sterilization cycle before I even start any actual mending––”

“I am aware,” his patient snapped. “Stop stalling, and pull out the knife. Now.”

The doctor gritted his teeth, and did what he was told.

Kel sucked in a breath as Lukas yanked the blade from her body. In his peripheral vision, the doctor saw the hand wrapped around the strength tester clench.

Ignoring that as best he could, Lukas swapped the knife for some fresh gauze, and rapidly wiped up as much stray blood as he could before he picked up the stitcher, and pressed it against the open wound.

A hundred years before, a human witnessing the use of tissue stitcher would’ve joked that it was something out of scifi.

But it was just science.

Highly-specialized, rapid-data-analytics-enhanced science.

Kel grunted as Lukas switched the device on, and the doctor couldn’t blame her. Feeling astonishingly tiny tools enter a wound, coordinated by a scanner capable of identifying the severed ends of musculature, and tying those ends back together along layer after layer of tissue, wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

“Please breathe,” Lukas reminded his patient without looking up from the monitor.

He got a growl in reply.

Also the distinct but perplexing sound of grinding metal.

The doctor kept quiet after that.

Lukas knew the stitcher only took a few minutes to seal up a puncture wound like Kel’s, but the knowledge that his patient could feel every twitch of the instrument inside her injury made the process feel like it took hours.

Finally, the stitcher reached the epidermis, and the doctor set the tool aside; wiped up some more excess blood; then padded and wrapped the wound site in gauze and a bandage.

“Alright,” Lukas stepped back with a nod. “You’re all patched up, but the tissue’s still fragile. Please don’t try to lift your arm above your shoulder for about a week, and don’t try to exercise it for three. That includes stretching. Or lifting anything heavier than a tea ket...”

He caught sight of the strength-tester.

Or, what was left of it.

Kel’s fingers curled perfectly around an enormous dent in the center of the pipe. If the doctor didn’t know better, he would have thought somebody had tried to use the thing as a doorjamb for an airlock.

Hairs prickled at the back of Lukas’ neck.

…So.

One question answered. A dozen more raised.

When he’d been pinned to the floor, she could’ve killed him without even trying. She could’ve crushed his throat with a twitch.

And this was her way of making sure he knew that, wasn’t it?

“Something wrong, doctor?”

Crap, he’d been staring.

“No i’m just…” Please don’t be a touchy subject… “Those strength-testers…they’re not supposed to be single-use.”

Kel snorted. “Then the Oxoinzans are not nearly as strong as they believe, are they?”

He tried to laugh. “I guess not.”

His captor ran a hand across the bandage. “Tell me, doctor: do you always rely on technology to do your work for you?”

What kind of rude…

Keep it safe. Don’t be the pipe.

“I use the instruments I have to do what’s best for my patients,” Lukas explained.

“And this was the best instrument for my injury?” She gestured to the stitcher. “Better than Human eyes and hands on a Human issue?”

“Well…yeah?” What was she driving at? “The stitcher can scan and treat tissue on a far more refined scale than I could ever hope to without––”

“But if you did not have access to your technology, would you be able treat the injury by hand?”

“Of course I could,” Lukas said. “But it would take way longer to heal, the risk of infection would skyrocket, and you’d probably end up with a scar. And we only have a handful of suture kits in stock. This was the best use of our supplies.”

“I see,” Kel nodded thoughtfully. “Then I believe we’re finished with our practicals for today.”

He blinked. “Practicals?”

“Reports can only give one so much insight,” she shrugged; winced. “And I also wished to assess your willingness to cooperate.”

At that, Lukas froze. “Wait, so you...you did this to yourself?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I was going to wait until I had two gunshot wounds and a missing appendage before testing your compliance?”

...Oh.

Well, that made a twisted kind of sense.

So maybe this was all she wanted him for? A personal medic, to patch her up whenever her illegal garbage went sideways?

It was a weird thing to hope, but compared to some of the more horrific alternatives, he thought he could bear that…at least for a little while. At least until somebody found him and brought him home.

But even with that puzzle piece clicking into place, one thing Kel said still didn’t make sense.

“I’m not sure what you meant about reports,” Lukas circled back. “I don’t think I’ve read any research papers on Humans with strength like yours, if that’s what you’re talking about. Are they in a peer-reviewed pub––”

She grabbed him by the throat.

Lukas recoiled as images of her last attack careened across his brain, but her grip was too strong to let him pull away.

Not again, please, not again...

“You play the fool quite well, doctor.” Her grip twitched. “But you cannot keep up this charade forever.”

Now what the hell was that supposed to mean?

His captor just stared at him, clearly amused at the fear he knew was written across his face, but there was an edge to her multicolored eyes that Lukas didn’t understand.

It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, was it? Back on the skipper, she’d said…

Wait.

Did...did she think he knew her?

Was this whole goddamn nightmare seriously some mistaken identity bullshit?

“I genuinely don’t know what reports you’re talking about,” Lukas insisted. “I really, really think you have the wrong person. I swear, I don’t––”

Another threatening flex of her fingers; Lukas went quiet.

“We will be repeating this exercise,” Kel told him. “You won’t know when, but I expect you to be prepared. Take what you have learned today, and provide better care next time. Understood?”

...The doctor in him wanted to have a long talk with his patient about her instinct to resort to self-harm instead of telling him her medical history...but he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to breathe if he tried.

“Got it.”

She smirked, and the hand slipped up the side of his face; tousled his hair.

“Good boy.”

Lukas gritted his teeth, but kept still.

A moment of humiliation was better than having his ass handed to him again. He could live with this, if it kept him alive long enough to go home.

Kel withdrew her hand with a chuckle. “Onto logistics: do you have any allergies?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I need my doctor in good working order,” she said it like he was a piece of equipment. “And as your little inquiry reminded me, there’s a chance I could poison you without intending to. I’d like to avoid that outcome. Are there any foods that most Humans can eat, but you cannot?”

Did this mean she was finally gonna give him some food?

Thank god.

He hadn’t eaten since those tacos the day Kel abducted him. Without windows or clocks or the ability to turn off the infirmary lights to help him sleep, Lukas had already begun to lose his sense of time. All he knew with certainty was that his stubble itched, and he was so, so hungry.

...Though he couldn’t help but be concerned by the “without intending to” part. But he didn’t have the luxury of keeping things to himself, did he?

And honestly, she had so many other ways to kill him, one more wouldn’t make a difference.

“Pineapple,” Lukas told her. “That’s it, as far as I know.”

“Can you treat the allergy with what you have on hand?”

The doctor chose his words carefully. “I’m gonna beg you not to test me on this, but yes. If I had to.”

He’d grabbed some yendarninil from the med room during his kidnapping. That would be more than enough to counteract the reaction if she fed him pineapple on purpose...Maybe he could keep an infusion pen full of it hidden by his bed, just to be safe.

“Good,” she smirked. “Now then, I need your help with an...experiment.”

...Nope. Not what Lukas wanted to hear.

He nervously shifted his weight away from her, but didn’t risk actually stepping back. “Just because I can counteract an allergen doesn’t mean it’s safe to––”

“No, no, we’ve moved on from that,” Kel rolled her eyes. “Hold out your arm. The one with the cast.”

Lukas hesitated. “Why?”

She just raised an eyebrow, and waited.

No winning this one, was there?

“Please don’t try to take the cast off,” the doctor removed his bloody gloves, set them on the tray, and held out his right hand. “I’m not kidding about the healing time, and if you have any more...tests...planned any time soon, then I need––”

“Rest assured my experiments do not involve intentionally mangling your assets.” Her hands were careful as one wrapped around his forearm; the other prodded at the pulsing cast. “You are certain it would be six weeks without this?”

This seemed like a bad line of questioning.

“Yeah.”

“Is that estimate just for bone? What about skin?”

Lukas’ heart started racing. “Skin’s...um...well, that really depends on the kind of injury we’re talking––”

She moved so fast, his brain didn’t have time to really register the fact that she’d grabbed the knife from the tray until it sliced a diagonal line across his outer forearm.

Lukas screamed.

More out of surprise and fear than pain, but after a moment’s shock, there was plenty of that too.

He tried to pull away; to retreat across the room far away from his patient and captor, but her grip on his arm was bruisingly tight. Fighting back wasn’t an option either: that knife was still in play, and Lukas didn’t dare try to wrestle it away single-handed.

So instead, he clamped his free hand over the wound, and stood there, shaking. Waiting for Kel’s next move.

“Oh, calm down,” his captor’s voice was mocking. “You would think I cut it off.”

“Why did you do that?” He honestly didn’t know what else to say.

Her mouth quirked. “I need to test your claims.”

“My claims?!?” Lukas gaped.

“Suture the wound,” Kel ordered. “Hand-sewn sutures only. Do not artificially accelerate its healing beyond that. I want to see how long the process actually takes.”

Was she serious?!?

“If you want to know how fast cuts heal, then pick up a goddamn anatomy textbook!” Not the smartest thing to blurt, but he couldn’t stop himself.

She smirked. “I prefer hands-on learning.”

“I don’t care,” Lukas’ voice cracked. “I’m not your lab rat!”

Kel’s smile vanished.

Her head tilted; her eyes narrowed.

She set the knife back on the tray, and rose.

Lukas gulped.

Even as the logical part of his brain told him they were about the same height, under that glare, the doctor suddenly felt very small.

He shouldn’t’ve yelled at her. What did he think that was going to accomplish, with her hand still clamped like a vice around his arm?

If she could mangle a metal pipe with just her grip, what could she do to bone?

“I...um...” Lukas lowered his eyes, suddenly desperate to shift things back onto safer ground. “I’m sorry I yelled. It was––”

Kel punched him in the stomach.

In the wheezing blur that followed, Lukas found himself bent over backwards, smack dab across the middle of the operating table. He fought against the vice-like pressure of a palm in the middle of his chest; strained to drag air back into lungs that had been evacuated by the assault; finally stilled as he felt fingers wrap around his throat.

Not again. Please, not again...

Once more, he squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the nightmarish squeeze that was clearly coming.

“Look at me.”

He flinched at the sound of her voice; flinched harder when those fingers flexed.

“I said, look at me.”

Lukas complied.

Multicolored eyes glowered down at him; though he had no idea why, the rage the doctor saw in them felt exponentially deeper than anything he could have anticipated to have stemmed from his protest.

“Deny the truth all you want,” Kel’s voice was unsettlingly level. “But dare to hurl that term against me again, and I will kill someone you love. Understood?”

Confused as all hell, but not about to test that threat, Lukas nodded.

At that response, his captor grinned again; leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“And make no mistake, doctor: while you are here, you are whatever I want you to be.”